The Luxury Of Hopelessness

I had a​ very busy day. I’m sure you understand--food to​ buy and cook,​ laundry to​ clean,​ clients to​ see,​ money to​ earn. So when I received two emails each from Amnesty International and the​ International Rescue Committee imploring me to​ contact my senators and urge them to​ support sending UN peacekeeping forces to​ Darfur,​ rather than call I felt annoyed,​ put out,​ guilted.

And then I thought for a​ moment. Here are millions of​ people suffering unspeakable horrors and this is​ a​ cause I’ve supported and spoken publicly about. How can I be annoyed? What’s really going on​ here?

I realized that my annoyance was a​ cover up. What I really felt was helpless and hopeless. For all the​ spotlighting of​ this genocide,​ for all the​ petitions signed by hundreds of​ thousands,​ for all the​ rallies,​ the​ situation in​ Darfur has gotten worse,​ not better. What I was really thinking was,​ “What difference will two more phone calls make,​ especially to​ senators who probably already support increasing aid to​ the​ Darfur region?”

Then I realized what a​ luxury it​ was for me to​ feel helpless and hopeless while millions of​ men,​ women,​ and children are being tortured,​ raped,​ starved,​ and murdered. How dare I do nothing because I choose to​ believe that I can’t do enough?

I came to​ my senses and understood that I needed to​ do something,​ not just for the​ people in​ Darfur,​ but for myself. First,​ I got my priorities straight and called my senators. And then I emailed them for good measure. I spent part of​ the​ rest of​ the​ day forgiving myself for wallowing in​ hopelessness. at​ the​ end of​ the​ day,​ I wasn't yet done forgiving myself. That may take awhile.